


Safe Harbor

by Yoru_The_Rogue



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: BatCat, F/M, I Ship It, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Not Beta Read, Personal Headcanon 'Verse, The DC Yoru-Verse, i canon blend like there's no tomorrow, my friends wanted a reason to ship this, shipfic, so i will give them a reason to ship it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-09-23 10:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20338549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoru_The_Rogue/pseuds/Yoru_The_Rogue
Summary: "Everyone wept for Bruce Wayne. [...] But no one wept for Selina Kyle."There are no such things as safe places in the world, especially in Gotham City, and nobody knows this truth better than two broken hearts drawn to the dark.Safe places don't exist.  But maybe...maybe safepeopledo.





	1. Prelude

Gotham City, 1989

Life, like all currents, pulls people along an unseen path, turning them into waves in its wake. At times there is stagnation, at others churning froth in the angry twist-and-pull of whirlpools, maelstroms and hurricanes on the sea. The harsh truth is that there are few people who would throw another a life ring, raft, or any sort of aid simply from the goodness in their hearts or a desire to do right by others. There are fewer still people or places that can be called lighthouses in the dark and crashing waters, and in Gotham City life’s horizon remained especially devoid of them.

Yet not all was lost to the heartless apathy of human self-interest, even in Gotham. Perhaps the brightest and kindest of all lights emanated from the name “Wayne”, and what it was coming to mean for the city, the wonderful and unequivocally good changes the young Dr. Thomas and Martha Wayne would bring.

The ebb and flow of the current of life happened on warm summer afternoon, to bring a young Maria Kyle in to the Wayne Free Clinic, with her daughters Selina and Maggie in tow, on a day when Thomas Wayne himself was in.

Dr. Wayne’s immediate thought upon seeing the young mother and her small daughters was colored with worry, for all three looked malnourished and pale. Upon closer inspection, he was dismayed to see skin discolorations, the marks of fading, older bruises alongside the angry imprints of newer ones. The mother kept averting her gaze to the floor, her grip on her children furtive, as if terrified they might disappear any second. The toddler in her arms looked around openly, taking in everything with innocent curiosity, but the older child clung to her mother’s hand in a death grip as she stared up at Thomas anxiously.

“Welcome to the clinic, Mrs…?” he prompted.

“Kyle,” the mother answered stiffly, before adding in a softer tone, “Maria. It’s Maria Kyle. These are my girls. Maggie—” she gave the toddler a gentle bounce, “—and Selina.” She seemed to hesitate for a moment, choosing not to look at him but focusing instead on the surface of the registration counter. “I, I heard you accept walk-ins,” she said, finally glancing up. It wasn’t phrased as an inquiry, but something in her voice gave away the question she was asking.

“Of course,” he answered. “No appointments necessary. You actually came at a perfect time; I don’t have any appointments booked at the moment. Or if you would feel more comfortable with Dr. Thompkins, she’s finishing up an appointment right now, I know she’d be happy to help.”

“Whatever’s fine,” Maria Kyle said absently, as if Thomas’s words had traveled in one ear and back out the other. “Um… How, how much is it?”

Thomas furrowed a brow. “Sorry?”

Immediately the remaining color seemed to drain from Maria’s face as her eyes went doe-wide in alarm. “I-I-I— I’ve got money…” she said, voice quavering. She released her elder daughter’s hand and made to reach inside her jacket, but Thomas was already shaking his head.

“There’s no need, Mrs. Kyle,” he spoke kindly, offering a smile of reassurance as she looked at him in surprise. “This is a free clinic. You and your girls don’t need to pay a cent. Just take one of the clipboards from the counter, fill out the information sheets on it, and we’ll have you back in one of the rooms in no time.”

The woman’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears as she sniffled a little, but to her credit, her voice was strong and steady as she responded, “Thank you, Dr. Wayne.” She plucked one of the clipboards from in front of him with her free hand as she readjusted Maggie on her hip, murmuring for Selina to follow as she made a beeline for the waiting room chairs. Selina didn’t dart after her mother right away, but remained where she stood a moment longer, staring up at Thomas with striking green eyes that already seemed too intelligent and clever for such a young child. He met her gaze and after another moment, Selina turned calmly away and went to sit with her mother and sister as Maria filled out the medical information papers.

More for the sake of looking busy to put them at ease than for actual lack of busywork, Thomas set about straightening up the desk. As he cleaned and organized its drawers, he found himself continuing to sneak glances at the family. A weight was beginning to press upon him as he considered them. They were in a bad home situation if his assumption proved correct, but Mrs. Kyle’s skittishness had already drawn something of an invisible boundary line.

_ If she has an abusive husband… No, I should leave it to Leslie to ask that question or direct her to the domestic violence shelter, _ he thought. _ I have a feeling she won’t be forthcoming with me. _ Absently, his thoughts turned to Martha, knowing her loving, compassionate heart would go out to the young mother. Martha would offer her anything, and she would adore these little girls as surely as she adored their own son, Bruce. Perhaps, when he went home for the evening, he would talk with Martha about this. Even if they couldn’t do anything for the Kyles without consent, surely they could make a positive change for all by donating improvements to the local domestic violence shelter.

“Sorry,” Maria Kyle spoke abruptly, getting to her feet and returning the clipboard to the counter. “I filled out as much as I could, but I had to leave a couple of lines blank.”

“That’s alright,” he promised, waiting until she’d released the clipboard to pull it closer and skim through what she’d written. “You filled out plenty. Please excuse me for just a moment, I’ll go let Dr. Thompkins know you’re here.”

She nodded without a word, immediately resuming her role as a mother to herd her toddler away from the automatic doors and other potential hazards. Thomas turned and headed through the hall door behind the front counter, clipboard in hand as he walked to exam room three. The door was shut and muffled voices could be heard inside when he went to knock. His three gentle taps quieted the voices within for a second, then a woman called back to him “Just one more moment please!” He waited as the two speakers resumed their conversation, and after about three minutes, the door opened.

Dr. Leslie Thompkins had a warm smile and comforting presence most patients found soothing, but the smile faded just a little as she stepped out and regarded Dr. Wayne with a raised eyebrow. Her patient exited the room with a murmured thank-you and she turned to pat him on the shoulder in response, but her eyes were questioning Thomas the entire time.

“What happened, Wayne?” she said, not unkindly. “I know that look on your face, something happened. Otherwise you wouldn’t have made it a point to come talk and find me while I was still with another patient.”

He couldn’t bother looking sheepish this time, but handed her the clipboard with a frown. “Young mother, two little girls, both under the age of six, if I had to make a guess,” he remarked. As Leslie took the clipboard, he added in a soft voice, “I saw multiple bruises on all of them, some old and others…” He let the sentence hang between them as her brows narrowed and her eyes swept over the page. “I don’t think things are okay at their home, but I don’t believe the mother will speak with me about it. She’s very guarded. I was hoping—”

“That I’d be the one to get her to open up?” she interrupted, shooting him a glance before continuing to look over the forms. “Really Tom, it’s the mustache, it makes you intimidating.”

Slightly alarmed and taken aback, he ran his fingers over his mustache as if to hide it, before realizing she’d been jesting with him. He froze with the realization and shot her a flat look. Leslie Thompkins admitted nothing, but there was a slight smirk on her face that hadn’t been there before. It faded before long however, as she flipped through the pages on the clipboard and finally blew out her breath in a long sigh.

“I’ll see what I can do, and that’s all I’ll promise you,” she said. “My heart goes out to those in need just as much as yours does, just as much as Matt’s does, but you know there’s only so much we can do for her. She has to want help and to be willing to let us help, my friend.”

“I know,” he admitted.

Leslie quirked another brow at him, but said nothing else as she strode towards the front of the clinic. He followed close behind, and Leslie’s smile was back in place as she stepped into the main lobby to greet their new patients.

“Mrs. Kyle?” she prompted, and Maria looked up from where she sat, dark, messy curls falling in her face as she tried to calm a fussy Maggie and comfort an anxious Selina. “I’m Dr. Thompkins. I’m ready to see you and your girls. If you would please come with me this way, we’ll be in exam room four.”

Maria stood up, wrapping an arm around Maggie and balancing her again on a hip, gently ushering Selina after Dr. Thompkins. She made to follow, but slowed her steps as she neared the door leading to the hall, turning to look at Dr. Wayne with a frown.

“Yes, Mrs. Kyle?” he prompted, but she only furrowed her brow and kept walking.

It was nearly half an hour later before they came back out, with Maria smiling tentatively and thanking Leslie profusely.

“There is still the possibility they will get sick, but the vaccination should help. If anything seems wrong, please call as soon as you’re able and I’ll get you in. Otherwise, be sure they’re both getting plenty of fluids and staying warm. And,” Leslie added firmly, “make sure you’re looking after yourself, too.”

Thomas watched Maria flinch back that the firm tone behind that order, and the weight on his shoulders somehow grew heavier with that one motion. If Leslie noticed, she made no indication of it and didn’t miss a beat. As she reminded Maria that taking care of herself was a vital part of caring for her children, small feet pattered on the floor and Thomas looked down into those too-clever green eyes that stared up at him.

“Hello,” he said, offering the child a smile. “Your name is Selina?” She nodded firmly and he added, “That’s a very pretty name. Did Dr. Thompkins help you feel better?”

“She gave me a shot in my arm,” the little girl replied, pointing out a colorful Band-Aid on her upper deltoid. “I don’t know how it’s gonna help help, but she says it will.” She looked up at him again, wide-eyed and curious. “Are you a doctor too? Do you help people?”

“Yes, that’s correct. My name is Dr. Wayne.”

“Mommy says we might get sick, and she brought us here because we don’t have medicine in our house,” Selina explained, bald-faced in only the way innocent children could manage. “I don’t get sick much but Maggie does.”

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, before glancing towards the girl’s mother. “Did you need anything specific for the children? Multivitamins, children’s Tylenol?” he addressed her.

“Well, whatever Dr. Thompkins thinks would be best,” she answered noncommittally. Leslie quirked her mouth in a smile and said to wait before she turned and disappeared through the door again. Thomas gave a short nod, then reached beneath the counter and grabbed the roll of stickers he’d seen earlier while organizing. Leaning back over, roll in hand, he showed it to Selina.

“Since you were such a good girl, you can pick one,” he started to say, but he barely got the words out before the girl gasped, exclaimed “Kitty!” and reached for one.

“Selina, what do you say?” her mother prompted.

She finished pulling the sticker from the roll, pressed it with surprising gentleness on her shirt, and looked up at him with the sort of smile that would one day light up the world. “Thank you, Mister Doctor!”

“Sweetheart, that’s Dr. Wayne,” Maria corrected, as Maggie immediately began pointing at the roll of stickers and babbling “mister doctor”.

“It’s alright,” he assured her as he extended the roll to the toddler and looked back at the older child. “And you’re very welcome, little lady.”

“When I’m big,” Selina said, her tone and face quite serious for her age, “I wanna help people too! You watch! I’m gonna do it!”

Thomas couldn’t help his smile, and the weight on his heart lifted a great deal. Here was a child who, in spite of the circumstances she was being raised in and what things she had seen, had such hope in her and a desire to do good, to see a positive change in the world around her. This city had not yet crushed her spirit, and some part of Thomas Wayne hoped it never would.

Children like this little girl, like his own son, they would be the ones to change the world.

“I absolutely believe you will, Ms. Kyle.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for suicide mention.

Gotham City, 1992

Unfortunately, all the hope and well-wishing in the world cannot prevent every tragedy, and even bright lights, shining to lead the way for those seeking shelter and comfort from storms, can be snuffed out. So it was in one summer, in less than seventy-two hours, the world irrevocably changed.

It was a warm June night, and nobody had ever expected it to happen. Maybe he was desperate for money. Perhaps he was a hitman. There was even a very slim chance it could have been done in revenge. Whatever the reason, at 10:47 p.m. that night, the world changed forever.

Gunshots were tragically frequent in Gotham City to the point nobody at first thought anything at hearing more. And for several moments following, that was all anyone heard. Not the clatter of bloodstained pearls against the pavement, not the splashing footfalls racing away into the night, and not the soft, frightened voice of the boy who whispered for his parents, whispered and pleaded as he touched his mother’s rapidly-cooling face, as he shook his father’s broad shoulder with his small hands.

But all of Gotham City heard the raw cry of anger, sorrow and loss that eight-year-old Bruce Wayne screamed into the night. Gotham heard, and in all the decades since its founding, trembled with the sound.

*

The news spread across the city within hours, through every outlet possible, and it would have been shocking indeed to have found someone who hadn’t yet heard so much as a whisper of the tragedy.

Thomas and Martha Wayne, the wonderful young philanthropist couple who had done so much for the city and for whom many thought to be the face of hope and change for Gotham, had been gunned down in Park Row on their way home from the movie theater with their young son Bruce. The shooter had supposedly been trying to rob the Waynes—though the details about a pearl necklace or a diamond one varied—but mysteriously left the child alive and then fled into the night without taking anything at all. It was unclear when it was the police arrived on the scene, whether the Waynes’ butler arrived to collect Bruce or if family friend Dr. Thompkins had stayed with the boy to comfort him for a while. Nobody knew for sure who the killer was and yet, everyone seemed to have ideas. The cops had caught him, the cops hadn’t caught him. At every turn the story became just a little different in detail with each telling.

Only the scream into the night that Bruce made seemed to remain consistent. Those who had heard it said it was an awful, soul-shattering sound, and those who hadn’t heard, believed without a doubt that the boy’s cry carried with it a rage against the cruelty of the world such as Gotham hadn’t heard in years. Many long days, weeks, and months would follow where the average person would pity the poor orphan and speak of how haunted his eyes looked in the photos and the news reels.

Everyone wept for Bruce Wayne.

*

Maria Kyle felt another piece of her heart die when she heard the news. She had never forgotten the kindness Dr. Wayne had shown her that first day she stepped into the clinic, or any day after. Truthfully she had struggled sometimes not to openly panic, as she was sure Wayne, Thompkins and Thorne could all tell how bad her home situation was just by looking at the bruises Brian left on her and the girls. And though some part of her ached with shame at how they were struggling financially, she couldn’t turn down the free care she was offered by them, not with Selina and Magdalene to think about. She never said anything about their family situation and thankfully, none of them had pressed her for details, nor had they ever once judged her for her circumstances.

People weren’t like that anymore.

She had been dumbstruck when she saw the headline, and the image of an alleyway in Park Row stained with blood and white outlines became burned into her mind’s eye. It was so hard to believe such kind and genuinely good people could be reduced to nothing but chalk marks within hours, or that she would never see that kindness put back into the world. Absently, the last discussion she had had with Dr. Wayne found its way back into her thoughts, and she mulled over it distantly, as though it was a surreal experience that had happened to someone else.

“You have a son, right?”

“Yes,” he had answered in surprise, as though stunned to think she had remembered. “His name is Bruce; he’s actually not too much older than your Selina.”

“Can I ask you a question, doctor?” He had nodded, and she continued, “Do you know what it’s like to be willing to do anything, endure anything, for his sake?”

The frown that crossed his face had been knowing and heavy with sadness. “Yes, Mrs. Kyle. I know exactly how that feels.”

She remembered turning, looking at Maggie in her oversized, faded coat as she dozed in one of the waiting room chairs, and watching Selina look through a picture book she’d brought along, trying to sound out each of the words on the page. Her heart had been heavy that day, especially in that moment, though she didn’t remember why. Surely the inevitable words would be spoken, asking what she endured and why, but they never came. That in and of itself was a comfort; Dr. Wayne never offered her that prying, judgmental pity like so many others in her life did.

Maria’s mind had already been made up, even before she saw the news. This just piled onto the rest.

_ No one who would offer me compassion is left in this world. What is the use of trying or even hoping for it? _

No, this was the only recourse left to her.

So she waited, biding her time until Brian had left, until she took the girls to school. She left Selina’s classroom holding back tears, and prayed that one day her girls would understand…and forgive her for every pain in their lives. That alone would be a saving grace.

*

That day, Selina Kyle learned that sometimes life didn’t make sense. When she found her mother it was both horrific and surreal. Her heart let out a cry that became a scream in her voice, and she put all her breath into it even as she raced to the bathtub and nearly slipped on the wet floor, slick tiles reflecting bright red up in the corners of her vision. She screamed and sobbed and wailed as she touched her mother, her mother who had gone so, so cold.

The following hours, days, week would go by in a blur, so filled with tears and many different kinds of pain that by the time she was an adult, she would barely recall the time that passed between that horror and the one that would soon follow. But Selina would never forget her mother, or the way she had learned how final death was when she was far too young to have endured it. The world was cruel and uncaring, and yet this would prove only the beginning, just the first of many tragedies to come that threatened to break and destroy this little girl completely.

But no one wept for Selina Kyle.

**Author's Note:**

> It was brought to my attention that a number of the people in my DC fam don't actually ship BatCat, and a few mentioned they would be willing to give it a shot if only there was any quality content for BatCat that wasn't 100% sappy, unrealistic romantic fluff or just plain NSFW kinky bs. I took that as a personal challenge to start writing a fic for one of my few DC ride-or-die ships, because I love BatCat, and I feel like this will be a very good chance for me to kind of showcase and explore how I want to share with people the ship through my own eyes. I'm warning you right now, I don't intend this to be anything but an emotional roller-coaster told in something more akin to a series of connected oneshots/short stories and drabbles that can read like a chapter fic; and for the record, I take a lot of liberties with DC canon. I canon-blend to the extreme, so if you're not about that life, I do suggest you click away. This is, first and foremost, a project I'm writing both for my friends and for myself, as a gift and a challenge I want to tackle, so I'm hoping this will prove worth it.


End file.
